


play this game with me

by signifying_nothing



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Extended Play, M/M, bottom!chanyeol, breath play, fake!dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 15:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7538833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's been a fucking week and frankly kris is so done with this game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	play this game with me

**Author's Note:**

> reposted by request from a now defunct livejournal.  
> this is fake!dub con; please don't read if that's going to upset you.

No one knows the little games they play.

 

~

 

“Don't you ever _shut. up._ ” Kris asks, one of his big hands wrapped around his younger housemates' throat. He's not really sure how they ended up like this – Kris had been struggling to study for his finals and the four-room apartment he shared with three other students was noisy enough regularly, but Chanyeol seemed to think that he had to be louder than usual, because it's the week before finals and being noisy and bouncy is the only way that he knows (apparently) to get rid of his nerves and tension.

He supposes it's only natural that his temper has finally snapped. Chanyeol is irritating enough to him on a good day – always having his friends over, always playing with the neighbors dog, always watching movies on his laptop when Kris is trying to sleep. He lets it go because Chanyeol is actually a really good roommate – he works, he pays his part of the bills on time, and when he's not being a noisy little asshole, he's not bad company, either.

But right now. Right now, Kris wants to kill him, just to get him to shut the fuck up.

Chanyeol is staring at him, obviously terrified, but he can't bring himself to care, because he's relishing the silence – no comments, no questions, no quiet moaning when he thinks Kris is sleeping in the room next door. No be-bopping, no beat-boxing, no low-voiced raps and no inane remarks about his classes being chattered in his goddamned ear.

Fucking silence.

(as much as he loves the little whimpering sounds that chanyeol makes in the middle of the night, he needs the silence, now.)

He squeezes his hand a little tighter, and Chanyeols' mouth opens – his tongue resting on his bottom lip, his eyes welling, overflowing with tears. The sight makes Kris's cock stir with absolutely forbidden want, and he struggles to re-focus. How long has it been since he'd grabbed him? He's looking a little blue in the face.

He shoves him back into the refrigerator and Chanyeol starts coughing – sliding down it, holding his throat, gasping for breath. What a fucking _gorgeous_ visual.

“Get the fuck out of the way.” Kris says, and the younger man practically rolls out onto the floor, so Kris can grab a bottle of gatorade and a pair of oranges.

The grad student steps over Chanyeols' shaking body, neglecting to notice any details, and disappears into his room.

 

~

 

to: noisy baby

11:47pm

_is your throat okay?_

 

from: noisy baby

11:52pm

_it's fine! :3_

 

to: noisy baby

11:53pm

_are you sure? i grabbed you pretty hard._

 

from: noisy baby

11:56pm

_i'm sure, kris! lets play this weekend~_

 

~

 

The next day, it's like nothing ever happened. Chanyeol is wearing a scarf inside, but he complains about the cold all the time, so their roommates – Lu Han and Do Kyungsoo – don't really remark on it.

It's like that for four days, until Friday – the Friday before finals. Han and Kyungsoo are out – partying, probably, because Kyungsoo is a philosophy major and Han doesn't have to _try_ to get his grades. Kris comes out of his bedroom, rubbing at his neck in irritation and scouring the cabinets for Tylenol. Chanyeol hasn't spoken to him verbally in five days, and as much as he hates to admit it, it's kind of starting to bother him.

Not because he likes the fact that Chanyeol never _shuts the fuck up_ , but because it's unnatural for him to be so quiet for so long. Even if they promised to play tonight, because their roomates are finally out of the house long enough for them to enjoy themselves.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and turns, walking right into the devil himself, who is holding a large mug of tea gone cold, still wrapped up in a scarf and hoodie. He doesn't say anything – just moves around Kris, shoulders relaxed, to empty the tea into the sink and put on a kettle to make a new cup. Not a word comes out of his mouth, not a sound.

It frustrates Kris.

He sighs, heavily.

“Look, I'm sorry, all right? You fucking talk too much. Maybe if you'd shut the fuck up the first thousand times I'd asked you to, I wouldn't have fucking grabbed you.”

Speaking of that...

He reaches out and grabs Chanyeol by the shoulder – yanking him over even though the younger man protests – fights his grip, soundlessly. Shaking his shoulders and trying to pull away, his face screwed up in something remarkably like desperation.

They wrestle one another to the ground. Kris feels his blood starting to boil and he slams Chanyeol down into the linoleum, relishing in the gasp of pain, the way his hands come up to protect his head. It gives Kris the moment he needs to rip the scarf away and look at the handiwork of his hand, still very clear against Chanyeols' pale, pale throat.

The bruise is big. Dark. How can it still be that dark after five days? Kris feels his dick throb and Chanyeol is still trying to push him away, whimpering, making as little sound as he can, and fuck that's a turn on, too.

Chanyeol always knows _just_ what to do.

He grabs the younger mans' fluttering hands and pins them under his knees – groaning at the little whine of pain, muted by how Chanyeol has his bottom lip bitten so hard between his teeth that he's bleeding.

“There are other ways I can shut you up,” Kris murmurs, and Chanyeol stares up at him with his big brown eyes and his messy auburn hair. “If you don't want me to choke you.” The younger student is shaking like a leaf. Fuck, yes.

Kris licks his lips, reaches to turn off the stove just as the kettle comes to a boil.

“I can put your mouth to better use.”

 

~

 

Kris drags Chanyeol into his bedroom, rather than Kris's. He throws the younger man to his floor and looks at him very intently as he locks the door. “Kris,” Chanyeol swallows, his adams apple bobbing, the bruise moving accordingly. “Kris please, I--

“Words?”

Chanyeol blinks, as though he's surprised to be asked. He's not, not really – Kris always asks, because this is Chanyeols' favorite kind of play and Kris has to _know_ that it's okay. “Red and yellow.” Kris nods, and then it's as though the little interlude never happened.

“Do you think I don't _know_?”

“K-know what, Kris,” Chanyeol sounds like he's about to cry, as Kris stalks over to him and grabs him by the hair – the brunette yelps and Kris holds him still, presses the tight crotch of his jeans against one pretty cheek.

“That you moan my name when you fuck yourself?”

Chanyeol blushes so red that Kris thinks he might die from the blood rush to his head. It's one of those things that he always mentions – the petty humiliation makes his dick hard and Chanyeol eager. He tries to pull away but Kris holds him still, grabbing one of his hands and bringing it to the button of his fly. “I'm giving you the chance to make your dreams a reality here, Chanyeol.”

“But I--”

“Do it,” Kris coos, and Chanyeol – naïve, sweet Chanyeol, who has only had one boyfriend, who really likes Kris, who is the type to do almost anything to please and be liked – swallows hard and carefully starts to work the button and zipper undone.

He hears and feels the teeth open – Kris is hot and hard against his hand and he wants him, _wants him_ , so he pushes the grad students pants down and mouths at his underwear – tonguing the soft material and making small noises, unable to help himself. He's just noisy. He's just...

Kris doesn't seem to mind though. In fact, Kris seems to really like the noises he's making, as his hand cups the back of Chanyeols' head and allows him to thrust his clothed dick against the younger mans' mouth and cheek until Chanyeol takes a hint and pulls the underwear to one side, letting that cock slide into his mouth instead.

Kris groans, watching him, and Chanyeol mewls up at him – bobbing his head, letting his eyes close. This is as good as it always is. Kris is thick in his mouth, and long – Chanyeol's cock is nothing to sneeze at, either, but Kris is thicker. Weightier, almost.

He moans again and tries to force his head down further, one hand pumping the length of the shaft that isn't in his mouth.

“Fuck, is this what you think about when you get off?” Kris asks, and Chanyeol looks up at him – feels the hand cupping his jaw, the fingers on his throat. “You sound so good with my cock in your mouth, Channie. I wonder what kind of sounds you'll make if I put it in your ass, instead.”

Chanyeol almost chokes and Kris laughs, holding the back of his head to keep him close. “Keep sucking. You must have something you fuck yourself with, Chanyeol, where is it. You make too much fucking noise for it to just be fingers.”

How Kris knows that, no one but the man in front of him knows, but Chanyeol looks to his bedside table, which has a large pull-out drawer. The older man smirks and goes to sit down, bringing Chanyeol with him – ending up sitting on the bed, his thighs spread, and Chanyeols' head bobbing prettily between them. He lets him work as he reaches into the drawer and pulls out a thin vibrator – a realistic dildo a little smaller than Kris's cock, with balls and a suction cup and a strange little tube. And then he pulls out the cum lube, and his grin turns wicked.

“You sick little fuck,” He smirks, and Chanyeol looks up at him, his face a bit blotchy with embarrassment, ashamed even as he has the tip of Kris's dick in his mouth, his tongue swirling messily around it. “Where do you put this, when you want to feel me cum?” Kris asks, pulling Chanyeol up by the hair, almost cooing. “Do you put it in your mouth, do you swallow? Or do you feel it in your ass, squeeze it out and rub it into your skin...”

“m...” Chanyeol swallows. “m-my ass, kris. i put it in my ass.”

“Yeah?” Kris grins. “Wanna feel the real thing?” Chanyeol nods, without hesitation – because he does want to, because he always wants Kris, because Kris is an infection in his blood under the skin, an itch that he can't scratch until they're alone in this house.

But then Kris is dragging him up onto the bed and tearing off his clothes, and Chanyeol decides that it's better to just shut off his brain, for now.

 

~

 

Somehow Chanyeol ends up on his bed on his back – Kris pins him down with a look and the younger man just lays there, trembling, as the grad student jerks his leg up and preps him with the cum-colored lube, sticky and slick. He grins. “It really fucking looks like jizz,” He says, leering up at Chanyeol, who is so red that Kris is surprised he has an erection, considering all of the blood in his face. “I bet you like to look at yourself in the mirror afterwards, all fuckin' covered in this shit.” Kris speaks confidently, from experience as he pushes two fingers inside of his roommates body, and Chanyeol fists his hands in his pillowcase, gasping.

“I bet you look even better covered in the real thing.”

The prep is quick and sloppy. Kris is impatient and Chanyeol is squirming so much that the older man has to slap his ass to get him to hold still – holding him open as he guides the blunt tip of his cock into that tall, somewhat awkward body.

He forces himself in, in one long, smooth thrust – Chanyeol cries out and Kris slaps a hand over his mouth to silence him, balls tightening at the muted whimpers, the strained breath. Fuck, so hot. Like Chanyeol doesn't want it, like Kris forced himself on him but he does want it. He fucking _wants_ it.

_Fuck._

Kris gives himself a minute to get settled in his ass and Chanyeol is so tight – hot and slick, his thighs tightening, straining against Kris's narrow hips. Chanyeol has his hands in the pillow on either side of his head, biting his lip as Kris looks at his bedframe, at what's hanging there, and Chanyeol knows that he's caught.

“What's this?” Kris asks, and Chanyeol swallows.

“It... It's a dog lead.”

“I can see that, what's it for?”

Chanyeol can see the surprise, and then the knowing smirk, and he yelps as Kris pulls back and thrusts in, hard.

“You fucking like this, don't you. You fucking get off on it.” He's not as horrified as he should be, and Chanyeol can't decide if that's a good thing, or a bad thing. The only boyfriend he's ever had told him it was disgusting, that he was sick, and now here Kris is, taking the short lead – it's really just a strap of leather with a mountain-climbing hook at either end – and fingering it gently. “What do you use it with?”

“I, I have a--”

“A what?” Kris is fucking _leering_ at him like he doesn't know exactly what Chanyeol uses it with.

“...a dog collar.”

“Fucking put it on. Fuck, _put it on._ ”

Chanyeol fumbles for the wide band buried under his pillows – he buckles it around his throat and Kris sees how that bruise is still so dark after so long, and his dick throbs painfully. “I am going to fuck you until you pass out.” He hisses, and Chanyeol whimpers – a sound hanging tantalizingly between outright fear and thick arousal.

Kris uses the lead to hook the collar to the bedframe and moves his body down the bed, bringing Chanyeol with him until his breathing is just a little bit restricted and his pretty mouth is hanging open. Just like when Kris was choking him in the kitchen, and he starts moving, his rhythm relentless. Chanyeol makes this little choking sound every time Kris pulls him down, trying to gasp, moan, _breathe_.

Kris silences him by placing the tip of his toy at his lips. Chanyeol mewls.

“Suck it,” He purrs, still snapping his hips forward. “Make him cum.” The imagery is too powerful for Chanyeol, who whines and closes his eyes, sucking noisily at the silicon dick in his mouth, choking around the dog collar, his own cock so hard he could hammer nails.

But Kris pretends he doesn't care – just cares about getting off, about the sounds that Chanyeol makes when he can't breathe and he reaches to force the toy deeper. It wasn't hard to prepare the little cumtube and shit – fuck, it was so hot to watch that pretty little mouth suck while his cock is buried in this gorgeous body.

His, all his.

Kris watches Chanyeol closely as he deepthroats the dildo, his lips stretched, his jaw aching. “He's gonna cum,” He breathes, and Chanyeol whines, working his mouth harder, faster, not caring if his teeth scrape along the shaft. Kris reaches his other hand to rub at Chanyeols' dick – at the place where he wants to pierce, the frenum? He rubs like he would rub a girls clit – in quick, small, rhythmic circles and he squeezes the bulb that makes the fake cock in Chanyeols' mouth spit lube like cum just as his mouth is covering only the head.

Chanyeol cries out and jerks up – Kris shoves his weight down and Chanyeols' eyes get very wide and he cums and chokes on air and lube that looks like semen that slides down his chin and cheeks and Kris snarls as he jerks his hips forward and reminds Chanyeol just who he belongs to.

Chanyeol slips into unconsciousness, not because he can't breathe, but because it's been a week since he'd gotten off and for a twenty-ear-old, that's a fucking _long time._

Kris always catches him before he falls.

 

~

 

Later, in the shower, Kris wraps himself around Chanyeol and kisses his throat. Lu Han and Kyungsoo are still gone, and the two of them make slow, sweet love in the shower – the kind of sex that Kris really likes, when he's not choking Chanyeol into submission in the way that he needs when he really feels out of control of his life.

“Hey.”

“Hm?” Chanyeol looks up at him and smiles stupidly. There's a ring of bruise around his throat, and Kris mournfully touches it. Sometimes he feels guilty for giving Chanyeol what he wants – what he needs, because Kris was never into this kind of thing before... Before... But he just.

“I love you.” So much. So much it hurts.

Chanyeol smiles that smile up at Kris – the one that makes his knees weak and his heart stutter. The one that made him say 'yes' to this fluffy-headed little troublemaker to begin with. He hates that it does that to him though, and he would never admit it, but telling Chanyeol that he loves him is just a fact of life. He doesn't do it often, but it's always implied; every time he asks what he wants for dinner, every time he says 'yes' to Chanyeols' _ridiculous_ ideas for playtime extended over days, instead of hours.

This week-long play is over, and they can get back to studying for finals and making out on the couch and seeing how wide Do Kyungsoo's eyes can get when he catches them with Chanyeols' hands down the back of Kris's jeans.

“I love you too, silly.”

It's reassuring. Kris needs to hear it as much as Chanyeol needs the air choked out of him while Kris pounds him into oblivion. They're an odd pair; mismatched and awkward, but what's important is that their hands fit together, and no one knows the games that they play, so no one is any the wiser.

 


End file.
